


The S.A.D.I.S.T., the W.I.M.P., and the A.I.D.A.

by consoledacup



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-23
Updated: 2017-10-24
Packaged: 2018-08-16 22:58:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 16,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8120869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/consoledacup/pseuds/consoledacup
Summary: A collection of deleted scenes, extended scenes, character reflections, etc. for season 4. Written by inspiration or by request.





	1. All Work and No Play

“Hey.” 

“Hi.” Jemma looked up from her work, her face lighting up at the sight of Fitz in the doorway. He made his way over to where she sat, massaging her shoulders lightly and leaned over her to peer at the papers in front of her.  

“How are those reports then?” 

“A _colossal_ waste of my time, as usual. Would’ve much preferred to have watched the match with you and Radcliffe.” She pouted, turning her head slightly to glance at him. 

“Me too,” Fitz murmured. He craned his neck a bit to peck her lips softly - once - twice - _three_ \- times before one of his hands slid from her shoulder to her hand. “Come on,” he said gently. “The reports can wait.” 

She willingly rose from the desk chair, allowing him to lead her to their shared dresser. 

“So, how was it at Radcliffe’s?” Jemma asked as she undid the top buttons and took off her blouse. She unfastened her bra, and slipped it off her arms, depositing it in the top drawer, inwardly smirking at Fitz’s face. 

He had seen her bare breasts before - _countless_ times, really - but he never seemed to loose his awed expression any time he saw them. 

They locked eyes, and there was a mutual, unspoken agreement. 

_Not tonight._

They were so bloody tired. 

He started unbuttoning his shirt and reaching for the blouse still in her hand, he threw them both in their hamper. 

“Fine. It was fine.” 

Jemma paused her removal of her trousers, staring at Fitz curiously. They usually shared more with each other than _fine_ s. And she knew if Fitz were spending time with Radcliffe, the evening would’ve gone far more in depth than _fine_.

But she could see the exhaustion in his eyes, so she decided not to press the issue.

She reached for her pajamas, and he removed his trousers, catching the clean t-shirt she lightly threw at him at the same time. 

Once dressed for bed, Jemma walked over to their bathroom and started her nightly routine. The toothbrush was halfway to her mouth when Fitz joined her, creeping up behind her and wrapping his arms around her. She leaned back a bit, continuing to brush, and he placed a kiss on her shoulder before letting go of her and starting his own nighttime ritual. 

She reached for her hairbrush and starting working on a few small tangles and waited until he spit out his mouthwash before speaking again.

“So, who won the match then?” 

Fitz paused, his expression shifting to - maybe she imagined it. It really was a long day. 

“Oh. Um. Not sure.” 

Jemma stared him, placing her brush in the caddy that rested on the counter. “You two planned this whole event to watch this match and you don’t know who won?” 

Fitz brushed past her, stepping out of the bathroom, not meeting her eye. “You know how Radcliffe can be. He talked my ear off.” 

“Fitz, I don’t understand -” 

“What does it matter whether or not I know who won the match?” Fitz threw his hands up, and she stood in place, wondering what she said to alter the mood. 

“I know what this is about,” Jemma sighed, walking over to their bed. Fitz drew back the covers on his side, but halted his movements at her words.

“You - you _do_?”

“Of _course_ I do. You’re upset with me for all of my long hours. Because tonight’s match isn’t the only thing I missed.”

Fitz stared at her for a long time. His expression unreadable. And then something - something in his eyes sort of _shifted_ and he nodded his head, exhaling deeply. He climbed into bed, and she followed suit.

“I just - I _miss_ you.” Fitz finally said. He still wouldn’t look at her, and his words were sincere, but his body language said something different. It was a bit strange, really, but he was being vulnerable, so she reached for his hand, squeezing it gently. 

“I know. I miss you too. This job is becoming - I’m - we’re just - it’s really hard when I have to report to the Director and oversee all his many orders when all I really want to do is stay here with you. But - but our _friends_ -” 

“ _Hey_.” Fitz scooted closer. “I think what you’re doing for the team is nothing short of altruism. I’m not asking you to step down or anything, okay? Also wouldn’t even be my _place_ to do that. But it does suck when I want to spend more time with my girlfriend.” 

“Trust me. Your girlfriend is of the same sentiment.” 

Fitz smiled, leaning in to smooth her hair behind her ear and give her a lingering, tender kiss. “Well, let’s just watch something on TV and go from there, yeah?”

She closed the distance between them once more, reveling in the bliss of his lips on hers a moment longer before pulling away, smiling softly. 

“ _Yeah.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is for TashxTARDIS whose ask convinced me to write for the current season. Thanks love!


	2. Strictly Business, Then

“You’d like a _what_?” 

The voice was muffled. As if Mack was almost sheepish with his request. 

 _“You_ know _. The ones they have in the -_ look _. Can you make me an exploding pen or not?”_

Fitz scoffed. “Who do you think you’re dealing with? Of _course_ I can.” 

_“Awesome. Thanks, Turbo.”_

“So, how are you and Coulson? Any luck on your -” 

_“You know we can’t discuss missions, man.”  
_

“Yeah, yeah. New orders and all. It’s just - not the same without all of you here.” 

_“Believe me, we feel the same.”_

There was a long silence between the two, when Mack spoke again. 

_“How are things with you and Jemma? You two finally settled in?”_

And the feeling of glumness Fitz was wrestling turned to light when _her_ name was mentioned. As it always did. As it always does. 

“She’s perfect. We’re perfect.” 

And they were. 

Her new title took her away from him more days than he could count, and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t disappointed. 

But. Her motive. 

Her strategy for moving up in S.H.I.E.L.D.. It was admirable. 

They had had a thorough discussion of it about four months ago.

Fitz smirked.

 _Quite_ thorough. 

_“You seemed quite chummy with the new Director just now, didn’t you? Like you were already the best of pals.”_

_He had waited to confront her when they were safely tucked away in their bed and began debriefing the events of their first introduction to Director Scumbag._

_Her demeanor with him had really bothered him all day, and it steadily stewed in his brain while he itched to ask her about her change of attitude._

_After all, they had spared the man_ no _expense just the day before. She was just as livid with the Director’s new courses of action as he was._

 _But before he - unfinished conversations would_ not _be reintroduced to their steady relationship, so he decided to ask her about it. Point blank._

_He tried to keep the bitterness out of his voice. He really did._

_But her expression revealed that his words stung just a little._

_Before he could apologize for his tone (although,_ really _, what was he_ supposed _to think?), Jemma scooted closer to him, reaching for his hand, intertwining it with hers._

_She wouldn’t look at him as she spoke quietly._

_“Do you trust me, Fitz?”  
_

_He didn’t quite expect the turn in conversation. He sat up a bit more in bed, using his other hand to lift her chin gently, coaxing her to look up._

_“ **Jemma.** ” He spoke her name barely above a whisper. A prayer. He waited until her blazingly hazel eyes found his. “The fact that you even have to - I will always, _always _trust you.” Her eyes were swimming with tears at his words. “Come now, love. What is this about?” He tenderly wiped her tears with this thumb, his fingers splayed on the side of her face._

_“I have a plan.”_

_She explained to him her motives for sidling up to the new director. She expressed to him her desire to advance in the agency._

_“It’s the only way I know to keep us safe, Fitz. To keep our_ friends _safe.”  
_

_He said nothing in response, staring at their linked hands._

_“Fitz?”  
_

_“If the director found out -”  
_

_“He_ won’t _.”_

“If _he did, Jemma, you could be in serious trouble. You could lose your job. Could be thrown in prison. This is a very treasonous -”_

 _“_ Treasonous? _I think that’s a bit of a far cry from -”_

_“I just want to be sure you’ve thought this completely through, is all. Sounds risky and if anything were to -”  
_

_“I can handle it,” Jemma cut in firmly, her tone causing Fitz to look back up to her. Her wet eyes now held something else in them.  
_

Fury.

Determination.

Confidence.

 _“I just - you and I are in a good place, yeah? A great one, even. I don’t - I can’t have anything happen to us again. To_ you.” 

 _“That’s_ not _for you to decide. I’m going to do this. I’m going to earn the director’s trust. And I’m going to exploit that trust to protect our team.”_

_“Jemma, I...”_

_“With or without your help.”  
_

_Ah._

_Clearly, he wasn’t..._

_It was - leave it to her to..._

_But. He cast aside his fear. His concern._

_And thought about her plan through a strategist’s eye. Not a lover’s._

_And it -_ actually - _it was quite a good one._

_And her reasoning for what she was doing. The love she had for their friends. For their team._

_For him._

_He squeezed her hand firmly._

_“What would you have me do then?” His voice was hoarse, and his heart was a tad heavy, but his soul - his spirit - it was light and light and light, because the love of his life was holding his hand in their shared bed, and_ really _, he was just about the luckiest._

_She searched his eyes before surging forward, her lips moving passionately against his._

_They broke apart after several moments - before finding each other again - his arms wrapping around her waist, her hands at his neck, one running her fingers through his hair._

_**Thank you.** _

_Her heart whispered to him through her touch. Her eyes. Her kiss._

_He broke away this time, reaching for her hands, and pressing them to his heart, kissing her fingers._

_“You’ll be careful.”_

_It was a phrase that hit too close to home, and her eyes welled up once more. He heard it from her countless times._

_Before his first mission with Ward._

_Before his solo escape from the “real S.H.I.E.L.D.”._

_Before his wartime on the aircraft carrier._

_He knew it would resonate with her. It was what he was trying to say the whole time._

_It was a plea. If he couldn’t convince her otherwise, then she could at least do him that much.  
_

_“Trust me,” she whispered, her eyes wet and soft.  
_

_They would have time to discuss the logistics of her plan. His part in the plan._

_But - for now - he just - he needed to -_

_He reached for the buttons of her top, and she watched him undress her without a word._

_She threw her arms back, letting the top slide away from her shoulders and falling to the bed._

_He held her face, his lips lingering on hers before they trailed down. He kissed his way to her breast, his mouth closing over her nipple, his hands lightly on her waist._

_She held his head, throwing her back, sighing deeply._

_“_ Fitz _.” Her tone was pleading. Urging him to -_

_He let go of her, feverishly lifting his t-shirt above his head, tossing it behind him not caring where it landed._

_She had already slid off her pajama bottoms and knickers and reached for the hem of his boxers when he held her hands, stilling them._

_“Wait.” He wanted to_ show _her - wanted to -_

_She wordlessly nodded, laying back on the bed, pushing back the covers._

_Naked._

_He could feel her body buzz with wicked anticipation, and he reveled in her suspense. Her impatience._

_He hovered over her, his arms bracing himself up on either side of her. Kissing her lips again and then her neck, and then he sucked on her collarbone before kissing his way down her chest, between her breasts, down her stomach, to his destination._

_And with all that he knew - all that he was - he showed her, showering her with affection - with satisfying her need - with_ worshipping _her - what it would do to him should she fail._

_She couldn’t fail._

_He wouldn’t let it._

_“...nice to hear everything’s okay with you two. Coulson and I miss you guys, and I’m definitely glad things are going so well for you. I wish I could say the same for Yoyo, but with the new director’s orders, things are..._ hang on. _Are you even listening to me? Hey. Turbo?_ Turbo? _Hey!”_

Fitz shook himself out of his thoughts, saving the very private memory for another... _well_.

“Yeah. Hear you loud and clear. Sorry, Mack.” 

 _“_ Okay _. I don’t know what had you off in LaLa Land, but I have a pretty good idea.”  
_

Fitz didn’t know how to respond - Mack was essentially right - so he offered another lame apology, hoping it would appease his friend. 

_“Yeah, yeah. I know, Turbo. We do miss you guys though. Keep us posted.”_

“Yeah. Yeah, you too, Mack.” 

_“Alright. Take care, buddy.”  
_

“Yeah. You do the same.” 

They ended the call, and as Fitz got to work, designing the exploding pen, his thoughts once more drifted to Jemma. 

As they always did. 

She was Special Advisor to the Director in Science and Technology, and she was absolutely magnificent in the role. 

The director was none the wiser. 

And even though he saw her much less, he couldn’t help the sense of pride that surged through him.

There was bound to be a time when all these secrecies and _classified_ s and separations weren’t warranted. 

But - until then - his girlfriend would do anything she possibly could to ensure the safety of her loved ones. 

And really, he was quite certain that he was the luckiest bastard in the entire galaxy. 

-

Check out Jemma’s perspective she witnesses Fitz’s rather odd behavior after coming from watching the match at Radcliffe’s in [All Work and No Play](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8120869/chapters/18615715). 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So! This sort of would not leave my brain, the minute Fitz gave Mack the exploding pen. But then, lapiccolina requested scenes with more kissing. So I think this fits the bill of a request, and it’s all yours, my dear. <3


	3. Like It Or Not

It had been a couple weeks after the horrific events on the quinjet when he found her. He had been in the kitchen, preparing two cups of tea, and she paused, staring at him, before heading towards the refrigerator, pulling out a water bottle. 

“Hi, Daisy.” She only nodded in reply. That seemed to be her sole mode of communication as of late. “Radcliffe is driving May crazy. You ought to see them together,” Fitz chuckled thinly, trying to lighten the mood. 

Daisy looked down at her water, her lips twitching a brief moment. 

Fitz was starting to feel unnerved from her lack of response. But given the circumstances, he expected as much. 

She started to leave.

“ _Wait_.” 

Her back was turned towards him, but he kept talking regardless.

“I’m - I’m sorry.” She didn’t turn around, but she didn’t leave either. He took that as a sign to continue. “I know I haven’t - I just wanted to...” 

 _Well,_ this _was going rather swimmingly._

“The grief you’re - _well_. Just - you know - I’ve...uh...I’ve been there. When Simmons was taken, there were many times when I - I wanted to _just_ \- to _stop waking up._ Because day after day, I wrestled this - this all-consuming sadness. It made me sick. It made me - there were - you know - there were days when I just - when I wanted to _stop waking up_. But I couldn’t. I had to fight. Had to fight for Jemma. And for - for myself.” 

Daisy finally turned to look at him, breathing slowly. 

“You think I didn’t - you think I didn’t consider that - you think I was full of hope and determination the entire bloody time? I wasn’t. But I knew - Jemma would’ve - wouldn’t’ve wanted to see me so broken. So I fought. I fought every single fucking day. And you guys - just - _being_ there. You got me through it.” 

Tears were falling steadily down Daisy’s cheeks over her fading cuts, and she studied him with an unreadable expression. 

“I know what you’re going through, okay? Like there’s no way out of the pain. But, Daisy. I just - I wanted you to know...you have us. _Always.”_

Daisy wiped away her tears, and the sudden movement cut through the calm. 

“How _is_ your girlfriend these days, Fitz?” 

“ _Daisy_.” 

“You may know a little bit of what I feel, but at least you get to go see her after the end of this conversation.” 

Her voice was raspy and hoarse, and Fitz inwardly cursed for not being more sensitive. 

“Okay. You’re right. It turned out...but, Daisy - please don’t...just...don’t push us away anymore. Let us help you. We - we care about you, Daisy.” 

Daisy shook her head, smiling grimly. “I care about you, too. And that’s the problem.” 

She walked away before he could say anything else.

-

And a week later, when he read the hastily written note Daisy left behind, he pounded the lab desk, angrily sweeping away the papers and binders resting there. He hung his head over the desk, bracing himself with his arms on the surface. 

And then a hand was on his shoulder. A hand that he knew well. A hand that he had known over thirteen years of friendship. A hand that he had conjured up while she was away. A hand that found its rightful place once more once they were reunited and their friendship changed exponentially. 

“Fitz.” Her voice was no louder than a whisper. A whisper full of promise and light and _home_. 

He turned to the voice. Allowed it to guide him to her. 

“She left us.” 

And before Jemma could respond, he rested his head on her chest. Near her heart. Her fingers started running through his hair. 

“I know.” 

There were tears in her words, and he looked up to find tears in her eyes. He wrapped his arms around her middle. Tightly. 

He had already lost one friend. He had to be extra certain that the one standing there with him would be there with him _always_. Her hold on him tightened, and he wondered if she was thinking the same. 

The small kiss on his neck revealed that she was. 

-

He thought about the last conversation he had with her. She acted like he didn’t understand. That she was the only one who understood intense pain. The only one who understood debilitating grief. 

And then he started to get angry. Because who the fuck was she to leave them? What gave her the right? 

 _Coulson_ watched his girlfriend die in his arms, and _May_ watched her ex-husband turn into a literal monster (and _then_ die). _Mack_ had to part ways with two of the closest people in his life, and _Jemma_? Jemma was isolated from civilization for six months on _top_ of grieving her dead boyfriend. 

And then there was him. He and Daisy were like kindred spirits. They both had to say goodbye to parts of themselves they weren’t ready to give up. But he slowly allowed her to help him through it, and she slowly allowed him to help him through it, and that’s what they _did_. 

That’s what all of them did. They got through it _together._

So what gave her the _fucking_ right to break from them? Maybe she didn’t need them anymore. But didn’t she see?

They still needed _her._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is an idea that struck me today while mulling over the episode.
> 
> Honestly, this is in direct response to it. Fitz was clearly hurting. I’m not justifying or condemning his feelings. 
> 
> They just are.


	4. Putting the Pieces Back Together

“Something you need to get off your chest, Turbo?” 

Mack’s voice broke into the quiet. The somber silence that accompanied them on the quinjet ride back to base.

“I don’t take back what I said,” Fitz muttered.

“Wasn’t saying you should.”

Fitz sighed. 

And they grew quiet again.

Until. 

“Is this what it felt like?” 

“What?” 

“When you found out about Simmons. At - at Hydra. Is this what it felt like?” 

“Daisy didn’t -” 

“I’m not talking about Daisy.” 

_Oh._

“When you found out she - she had been _lying_ to you. Is this what it felt like?” 

Fitz looked up. 

The tears in Mack’s eyes were still there. 

“ _Yeah_. This is what it felt like.” 

-

“Are you going to confront Yo-Yo about it?” Fitz waited until they had both calmed down a bit. When they weren’t seething anymore. 

“I don’t know how I would even start.” Mack balled up his hand into a fist. “Daisy _knew_ how this would affect me - affect _us_.” 

“She betrayed us.” 

“Just like Simmons betrayed you, right?” 

“ _Watch it.”_

Mack opened his mouth to continue, but Fitz assumed that the look he was giving him was cause to shut his mouth.

“Sorry, buddy. I didn’t mean -” 

“Daisy deserting us was _nothing_ like Simmons. And - quite frankly - I don’t feel like defending her actions to you.” 

“I’m not asking you to. In fact, I don’t know why I...she and I had sort of a - a _talk_ when she left Hydra and came back to the base.” 

This had Fitz’s attention.

“What - what are you -” 

“She came to talk to me about you. Appreciating that you had me as a friend. That you _have_ me as a friend.” 

Fitz nodded, saying nothing.

“And I told her off. Saying she made you - that her presence was making you - uh - _worse_.” 

Fitz exhaled shakily. 

It had been a long time now, but the - it still _stung_ , okay? 

“And the way she responded....that’s when I realized she had feelings for you. And was just trying to help you heal in the best way she knew how.” 

“We - we’ve obviously had a lot of conversations about that since. But I don’t understand why -” 

“ _Look._  I didn’t mean what I said. I know it’s not the same thing.” 

“Then why -” 

“Because Yo-Yo knew where she was _**the whole damn time**_!” Mack exploded. “Most of our conversations revolved around getting our girl back -” 

“She’s not our girl anymore.” 

“Fine. Getting _her_ back, and Yo-Yo just listened or offered advice, and she was lying to my face about it. For months.” 

Fitz said nothing to that. 

What _could_ he say, really? 

-

“She broke up our team.” Fitz’s voice was soft, but he knew Mack heard every word. “If Daisy hadn’t have left, then Coulson wouldn’t’ve stepped down, and the new director wouldn’t’ve split us all up.” 

“You really think Coulson wouldn’t’ve stepped down regardless?” 

Fitz wanted to say _yes_. It was - it was just really _easy_ to blame her. To pinpoint the exact reason for their separation. 

He was - he was so _angry_  and Mack’s calm tone helped him think a bit more rationally. 

Mack had a point.

“ _No._ ” 

-

“What do you make of that skull-on-fire guy?” 

Mack chuckled humorlessly. “Hell, if I know.” 

“Right.” 

-

“You gonna tell Simmons?” 

"Don't know." 

It was the truth. He wanted to, and most likely - he would. But he had to consider her job. As he always did nowadays. 

“You gonna tell Coulson?” 

" _Hell_ , yes." 

-

“I really hope Daisy’s okay out there. Going rogue. With that hothead.” 

Fitz scoffed. “Evidently, she can take care of herself.” 

“I know. But I -” 

“Yeah, I know." Fitz paused before speaking again. "I’m worried, too.” 

And that was that. 

Neither of them said anything else the rest of the ride. 

Neither of them needed to.

-

Check out Fitz’s failed conversation with Daisy before she left all those months ago in [Like It Or Not](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8120869/chapters/18698179). 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is for AchillesMonkey who requested a FitzMack bro convo on the way back to base. How about six instead?


	5. New Parameters

“My expertise is needed here for a tour.” 

Mack did a double-take. “You’re kidding me, right? The Director thinks the best use of your talents is for a...for a damn _tour_? Tour for who?” 

“ _Whom_.” Jemma stifled her giggle behind her hand. If Fitz hadn’t spoken up to correct him, she definitely would’ve. “What?” 

Mack didn’t answer but his annoyed expression softened a bit.

Jemma sighed in disappointment. She wanted to join the boys for the mission. Would’ve been a treat to hear Mack and Fitz goad each other and bicker. She longed for things to be...like they were. 

Like they were _before_.

She shared a meaningful look with Fitz, and Mack glanced between the two of them.

“I’m gonna go get the quinjet prepped and ready to go. Shame you can’t join us, Simmons.” 

Jemma’s smile in return was small but no less appreciative, and Mack left the two in the lab without another word. 

Fitz took a step towards her. 

“See you when I see you?” Fitz chuckled humorlessly.

“You’ll be careful.” Jemma reached for his hand, squeezing gently.

“I’m always careful, Simmons.” 

“ _Fitz_.”

“Yeah, yeah. And don’t you go on forgetting all those many important things you were going to say to all those many important people on your important tour.” 

Jemma rolled her eyes. “Please don’t remind me.” She leaned in to peck his lips gently before pulling away. His eyes were soft as he tucked her hair behind her ear. 

Squeezing once, he let go of her hand before walking towards the lab’s exit in the same direction Mack left. 

He was gone for one minute until she heard loud, heavy footsteps. 

Jemma giggled. “Forget something?” 

Fitz nodded and stalked over to her, wrapping her into his arms and pressing his lips firmly on hers. 

“I forgot to say ‘I love you’,” he said sheepishly when he pulled away. 

Jemma swallowed thickly before brushing imaginary lint off his lapels. 

“Love you, too. Now, _go_  before you hold up Mack any longer."

“Right.” 

-

Check out [Like It or Not](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8120869/chapters/18698179) to get a take of Fitz’s feelings about everything Daisy and [Putting the Pieces Back Together](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8120869/chapters/18714137) where Mack and Fitz have a heart to heart as they are want to do from time to time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is for TashxTARDIS who requested a cute, little scene between Fitzsimmons before he and Mack left for the mission. This took longer than anticipated, but real life was NO. FUCKING. JOKE. as of late. Would totally be a coda challenge entry if not so belated.


	6. Let There Be

The lights were off in the bunk when Jemma gingerly stepped in, closing the door softly behind her. 

Fitz was completely gone to the world, snoring softly - which happens only after a very long, very exhaustive day - and that faint hum provided her more comfort and familiarity than she could fathom. 

She was spent. 

She didn’t even think about her nightly routine or changing out of her clothes. 

She just crawled right in next to him, curling up on his chest, allowing the rise and fall of his breath to rock her to a state of blissful unconscious. 

That delicious moment in between waking and slumber. 

That delicious moment that was short-lived, because her added weight startled Fitz, and he sputtered before looking down at her in a daze. 

“Hi,” she whispered. 

“Hey,” Fitz murmured tenderly. “Come here.” He groped blindly for her, and she smiled at how adorable he looked in the dark. She scooted up to nuzzle her face in his neck, as he wrapped his arms around her, holding her close.

“You’re still dressed.” 

“Yes.” 

“What’s wrong?” 

She didn’t know if it was the concern in his tone or the fact that he knew her so bloody well or just being in his arms or if it was simply a mixture of the three. But whatever it was, the dam broke. 

And Jemma wept. 

Fitz exhaled sharply, tightening his grip around her. 

“ _Jemma_.” 

“I killed May.” 

The words were heavy, and the words were a confession, and the words were a truth.

And Fitz - to his credit - didn’t say anything in response.

“I _did_. Radcliffe and I determined that the only way to save her was to - to stop her - her _heart_  - and _Fitz_ , the power went off right before I could shock her back to life, and I thought...”

She buried her tear-streaked face into his shoulder, unable to continue. 

“She died. She died, and I thought I wasn’t going to be able to bring her back. So I kept giving her _useless_ chest compressions, just - just _thinking_ that I...” 

Fitz cleared his throat. 

“So - em - so how did you save her?” His voice was hoarse, and she knew he was getting choked up too. 

“Radcliffe had this - this _remarkable_ self-sustaining battery. Quite impressive, really.” She felt Fitz stiffen slightly, but she was so distracted with the day’s events, she didn’t press. “We plugged the defibrillator in, and it - she came back.” 

“Of course she did, Jemma. You _saved_ her.” 

“No. I _killed_ her.” 

“You’re obviously exhausted and drained from the day. Because we both know that you don’t really believe that.” 

Jemma sighed into his shoulder. “I don’t,” she mumbled.

"'Atta girl.” 

She sank back into Fitz at the same moment he sat all the way up, reaching for the lamp.

She fell gracelessly on the mattress, groaning dramatically. 

“Come on, Jemma. You’ll thank me in the morning.” 

“I beg to differ.” 

He lifted her torso, reaching for the hem of her blouse and slid it off her. 

“I’m perfectly capable of...” Jemma tried to sound stern, but she drifted off, forgetting why she was supposed to be angry or stubborn or...

...whatever it was.

“You can’t even keep your eyes open.” 

“I could if I wanted.” 

“Yes, love. Keep telling yourself that,” Fitz said reassuringly.

He came back to the bed - when did he leave? - and unfastened her bra. 

“Not in the _mood_ , Fitz...” Jemma swatted his hands away.

“ _Flattered_ , darling, but you just waited a _full_ minute before reacting, so that’s _definitely_ not what I had in mind right now.” 

Instead, he slipped her pajama top over her head - already fully buttoned - making sure to smooth out her hair. 

And if that wasn’t the _most_...

She started crying again. 

She felt Fitz surrounding her, his arms a harbor, his lips brushing her hair as he murmured _it’s alright_ s and _shhh_ s and _i’ve got you_ s. 

He let her go and reached for her pants. Wanting to help in whatever she could, she flopped backward on the bed, stretching her legs out as far as they could go.

Fitz chuckled. “Thanks, dear.” 

Her dress pants were off, and then her pajama pants were on, and _really_ she had no idea what she did to fall in love with such a caring, thoughtful partner. 

She didn’t care to find out either. 

A paper cup was thrust into her hand. 

“I’m not going to drag you all they way to the sink, but you really ought to at least use some mouthwash. Can’t have my girl wake me up with putrid morning breath.” 

She tried to kick him for that quip. 

His amused laugh told her it didn’t land. 

She swirled and spat as instructed, holding out the cup for him to take. 

She shifted herself to curl back on the bed in his spot. 

It was still warm. 

The comforting darkness surrounded her once more with a click of the lamp, and then Fitz spooned himself into her back, reaching an arm to hold her to him and dropping a kiss on her shoulder. 

“Thank you,” Jemma said sleepily. 

She wanted to say more. She wanted to show her appreciation for letting her have his side of the bed. She wanted to tell him how lucky she was to have him by her side. She wanted to say how deeply in love with him she was. 

But it was close to 3 A.M., and she had killed May today (before bringing her back), and she wanted to sleep instead of cry, so she settled for a “thank you” instead. 

But he knew. 

She didn’t know how, but his hold on her tightened, and he swept her hair away from the back of her neck before kissing it, and that was that. 

And she let his soft snoring lull her to sleep in the darkened room. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay. So, normally, Jemma isn’t this emotional, but I gotta believe going through what she did with May that day fucked her up. Not to mention that she lets her guard down with Fitz. I bet she does that more often with him now, because she needs to be as stoic as she can in her new S.A.D.I.S.T. position. 
> 
> This would’ve totally been a coda fic, if it wasn’t so belated.


	7. Double-Vanity Sinks

 

 

“We work for _S.H.I.E.L.D._ , you know. All of our living expenses have been covered for _years._ Not to mention my sixth month stint on another planet - I didn’t spend a _thing_!” 

“ _Okay_ , but do you have to - never mind. I realize all of this, Jemma, but we still need to formulate some sort of budget. We can’t go crazy and blow all our money on such an expense.” 

“Oh, _fine_. I suppose you’re right.” 

“Well, you don’t have to say it like I’m letting all the air out of your fun balloon. Just trying to be responsible.” 

“The air out of my...” 

“And coming up with a budget can also be a good time -” 

“...my _fun_ balloon?” 

“- yeah, I heard that saying once. It’s a _thing_.” 

“I’m sure it is, Fitz.” 

“Now, you’re just patronizing me.” 

“Sorry. But, _fun_ balloon?”

“ _Okay._ I won’t say it anymore. Stop laughing, Simmons.” 

“I’m trying.” 

“Try harder.” 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is for AchillesMonkey who simply nudged this idea along. I was totally going to write something about it, lol.
> 
> This would’ve been a coda challenge fic, if it weren’t so belated.


	8. We Should Start a Club

“Agent Fitz.” 

Fitz sighed. 

_Busted._

“Okay, _look_. I know AIDA isn’t -” 

“Radcliffe informed me that he had to kill me. That true?” 

Fitz sputtered at May’s direct questioning. 

“Yes. Although it was really _Simmons_ who- I mean - yes. Yes, it’s true. You had to die to live.” 

“Simmons, huh?” 

“Yeah, but don’t go...it was _imperative_  that she -” 

“She continues to surprise me.” May fixed him with a hard stare. “You’re lucky to have her. Don’t screw it up.” 

Fitz smiled in a familiar self-deprecating manner, turning away. “Yeah, tell me something I _don’t_ know.” 

“Agent Fitz.” Fitz turned back around to find May shaking her head almost...almost _fondly_. “She’s lucky to have you too, you know.” 

Fitz could feel his ears turn red, and he scratched his beard, uncomfortable with the compliment.

Words like that were rare and far between coming from Agent May, and Fitz never knew how to act when she wanted to get a bit more personal. 

It was quite unsettling, really. 

“Thanks,” he said simply. And then, he decided to press his luck. “You know, you can talk to me about... _well_. You and Coulson aren’t the only ones to have...you know. To have flirted with irreparable brain damage.” 

“I’m fine, Agent Fitz.” 

Fitz threw up a placating hand. “Oh, believe me, I know. It’s just that...if you need to talk about it...I know a thing or two about it. What it’s like. Not many can say that, can they?” 

May pursed her lips. “How about you and Radcliffe just focus on getting me out of here? I’m all talked out.” 

“Right. Yes, of course.” 

“Did someone call me?” 

May rolled her eyes. “The sooner the better, Fitz. I can’t take much more of this guy.” 

Radcliffe clutched his heart dramatically. “I’m hurt, Agent May. At least wait until I’m out of the room before you go on insulting me. I’m only human, after all. Unlike _others_ who I’ve -” 

“ _Okay_!” Fitz exclaimed with a forced brightness. “I think that’s all the excitement Agent May needs at the moment. Let’s analyze her test results and leave her in peace, shall we?” Fitz all but pushed Radcliffe out of the room.

That man’s eccentricities was going to get them all thrown into the brig sooner or later. 

The question simply was _when_. 

-

Check out [Double-Vanity Sinks](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8120869/chapters/19215751) for a brief, fluffy fix. This would’ve totally been a coda fic, if it weren’t so belated. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is for AchillesMonkey who threw out this idea to four of us, and I took the bait. Can’t wait to see what the others come up with - should they choose to accept!


	9. This Isn't about the Polygraph

“This is one lie you’re gonna have to tell.” 

“Actually, I’ll have a few.” 

“FitzSimmons? Can you join our debrief?” 

It was strange. Coulson _technically_ wasn’t in charge of either of them anymore.

Technically, _Jemma_ was. 

But the saying about old habits prevailed, because both of them joined the misfit group without another word.

“Just getting Agent May up to speed, Agent Simmons. Told her about Daisy and Robbie Reyes.” 

Fitz stared at Jemma. “You saw Daisy?” 

Jemma nodded, refusing to look at him. “I did,” she said softly. “She lured me to that apartment I told you about for my help. And medical prowess.” 

Fitz’s heart sank. “So. The apartment wasn’t -” 

“Oh no. It _is_. It was perfect.” Jemma’s eyes grew soft. “And Daisy even…” Jemma cleared her throat. “It’s ours if we want it, Fitz.” 

Fitz grew more and more uneasy at the matter-of-factness of her tone.

“That’s great and all, but can we talk about your housewarming plans later? That is…if it’s all right with you, Agent Simmons?” Fitz almost laughed at how ridiculous that sounded. 

Coulson asking permission from Jemma. 

But this was the norm now. And he was good with it. And proud of her. 

Still.

It sounded ridiculous to hear his former boss address his girlfriend like that. 

And even more ridiculous when Jemma answered him in a curt, professional manner.

“Yes, that’s alright.” 

-

One half-hour meeting later, the four agents geared themselves up to leave Radcliffe’s place. 

“Goodbye, Agents Fitz, Simmons, Coulson, and May. I hope our paths cross again soon.” AIDA’s voice was almost lyrical. 

So poised and polite. 

Which made it all the more of a letdown when he felt Jemma stiffen next to him. “I’m quite sure they will… _Aida_ , was it?” 

_Cheeky._

“I’m looking forward to it, Agent Simmons.” 

Jemma simply nodded, subtly squirreling away from Fitz when he tried to put a hand on the small of her back. 

_-_

After a long commute of silence between the four, they parted ways at the base, and FitzSimmons walked to their bunk hand-in-hand.

“Jemma.” 

Fitz stopped her from entering their room, squeezing her hand and standing firm, silently pleading for her to look at him.

She hadn’t even _glanced_ his way the whole time. And even though she held his hand, it was - it seemed _forced._ Like an obligation. 

He was tired. It was a long day. And she had an even longer one.

But he drew the line at forced hand-holding.

So he let go of hers. 

“I need you to understand. I kept AIDA from you so you wouldn’t have to -” 

Jemma held up a hand. “I understand why, Fitz.” 

But her tone told him the exact opposite.

“I just - want to…make sure that you and I are…” 

“We’re fine, Fitz,” Jemma said tiredly. “Now if you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to go to bed. It’s been a trying day. Even more so than usual.” 

Fitz nodded over-enthusiastically. “Yes. Yes, of course.” He opened the door for her and she slipped in, saying nothing. 

After five full minutes of silence, Fitz did what any other bloke in his position might try to do. 

He broke it. 

“I’m actually quite relieved you know all about AIDA, now. Wait til you see what Radcliffe and I have been working on to perfect. In fact, we need your valuable input.” The words started flowing out of him, and he couldn’t stop them if he had wanted to. 

“That’s nice. Can you throw this into the hamper, please?” Jemma tossed her blouse at him, and it hit his face with a bit more force than he expected. 

“Yep. Yep, sure.” 

He did as she requested and tossed his own shirt into the hamper along with hers. When he turned around, she was already in the bathroom, door slammed behind her. 

Well, she wasn’t about to keep him from his nightly hygiene maintenance, _that_ was for sure. 

So he gave her a minute or two, changing into his sleep shirt and boxers and then opened the door, brushing past her to start his own nightly care. 

She continued to wash her face silently. 

And after another full minute, he couldn’t handle the silence again. 

So he broke it again. 

“You know, it’s so funny, because the first time I saw AIDA, she came out _stark_ naked.” 

Jemma whirled around so fast he was surprised she didn’t suffer whiplash.

_If looks could kill._

He kept going. If his foot was already in his mouth, might as well get the whole leg in there, right? 

He grimaced. “I averted my eyes right away, of course. Don’t need to see any of _that_. At first, I thought Radcliffe had built some sorta _sex_ robot.” 

Jemma scoffed. 

“Right? He’s mad enough to do that, isn’t he? But, no. Turns out he wanted to -” 

“ _Fitz.”_

He stopped his rambling in relief. 

“Yes?” 

“I’m tired. I’d like to sleep, now.” 

“Right.” 

She left him in the bathroom and climbed into the bed, and after he finished brushing his teeth, he crawled into bed beside her, reaching out to -

She turned over on her side - away from him - before he could. 

She reached over and turned off the lamp on her side. 

He did the same on his. 

“Goodnight, Jemma.” Fitz said hesitantly. 

“ _Night_.” 

-

They woke up together much the same way they fell asleep. 

 _Separated_. 

She was out of the bed before he even opened his eyes. 

No _Good Morning, Fitz_  for him, that was for sure. 

No good morning kiss, either. 

He still wanted to talk to her about something. And if she was going to bite his head off about it, so be it.

“Jemma,” Fitz started less than assuredly. 

She took her curling wand out of her hair mid-curl and raised her eyebrow, waiting impatiently for him to continue. 

“It’s just that - you said that we have a place? Daisy found us a place?” 

Jemma nodded wordlessly. 

Fitz grinned broadly. “That’s great news! Are we - are we going to talk about that?” 

Jemma studied him, cocking her head to the side. Fitz could feel his smile slide ride off his face. 

“I mean - after your lie-detector test - of course.” 

Jemma rolled her eyes and resumed curling her hair. 

-

She waited for him to finish getting ready - at least she waited - and then they made their trek to the kitchen together. 

He heated up the kettle and then prepared their tea to their particular preferences. 

He fixed hers first, holding it out to her, hopefully. 

She took it with a muttered _thanks_ and slipped out of the kitchen, slowing down her steps slightly, so that he could catch up with her. 

He still had to hustle though. 

And he didn’t think that was by accident. 

And because he was far more of a masochist than anticipated, he decided to break the silence. 

Again. 

“What do you make of Robbie Reyes, then? I still can’t figure it out. Good thing he was there, yeah? I can’t believe that James turned on us like that.” 

Jemma merely stared at him and then entered the lab. 

He followed her, taking the compliment route.

_Maybe she just needs her ego stroked a bit._

She didn’t. 

And when she finally spoke, he almost wished for the silence again. 

He never meant for her to feel so betrayed. 

And the ironic bit was that he still  _knew_ he was right. He didn’t want to share something with her that she’d be forced to lie about. 

Clearly she didn’t see it that way. 

 _Or._ Maybe she did. 

He didn’t know. 

What he did know was that her annoyance with him was _far_ from over. 

And really, he couldn’t get out of the lab fast enough. 

Going to the penitentiary seemed far more welcoming. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ouch. But also, their current predicament is so wildly entertaining, I couldn’t resist. 
> 
> This is for lapiccolina who simply wanted anything more than what was given on screen. Happy to oblige, dearie! Hope you at least enjoyed reading the comical angst?


	10. I Swear I'm Gonna

She didn’t pick up.

_Okay._

He got why she was mad. He did. She told him. She was hurt. She was stressed. 

He got it.

Which is why he gave her space. 

Let her make the first move.

But the mission turned into a longer stint than he realized. And he _almost_ called her to tell her that he would be on Zephyr One overnight. 

But he didn’t. 

She needed to reach out to him first. 

He did all he could on his end. Tried to cheer her up, offered to practice with her, explained his side. 

_Nothing_. 

So it was clear that this is what he needed to do for her. 

Give her space. 

So he did. 

Until he _still_ hadn’t heard from her the next day.

So he picked up the phone.

And called her.

And. she. didn’t. _bloody_. pick. up. 

_Well_. 

If that’s the game she wanted to play, then...

_Fine._

_-_

“This is the _second_ time I’ve tried to reach you, Simmons, and I’ve just gotta say you’re being totally immature about this whole thing. Come _on_. It’s been over a day now. Please call me back. Also, I don’t think _you’re_ immature, but the way you’re handling it is...okay. Sorry. Probably making things worse. Just. Call me back, okay?” 

-

The third time he called, he _still_ got no bloody answer. 

He would’ve thought after that hasty message he left, she would’ve called him back to give him a piece of her mind or something.

But...

_Nothing._

So he considered their employer. 

There were two viable reasons for her not to answer her phone.

The first being: she was still angry

And the second? 

The second he didn’t even want to consider. 

Because. 

That would mean.

_Oh no._

-

“Jemma. Bloody call number four if you’re keeping track. You can still be mad at me and tell me to ‘piss off’ or whatever, but I just need to hear your voice. To know you’re...come on, Jemma. Answer your damn phone.” 

-

After his brief talk with May about it, he decided to get some bloody answers. 

“Hey! You.” He strode purposely to one of Mace’s goons. “You know where Special Advisor Simmons is?” 

“Simmons...she’s science and technology, right?” 

Fitz resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

_Wanker._

“Mhmm. Yeah, that’s her.” 

“Not sure, man. Haven’t seen her.” 

Fitz’s back was already turned to whoever-the-hell-guy-that-was, and he whipped out his phone again for the fifth time.

_**Nothing**._

_-_

“Okay, Jemma. Now I’m _really_ starting to worry. I realize I’ve called you six times, but you’re _not_ bloody answering, and I _have_ to know you’re okay. Please, _please_ call me back when you get this. I love you.” 

-

“What did he say?” 

Coulson sighed. “He wants to take Robbie in. I convinced him we needed him to stop Lucy. After that, I don’t know.” 

FItz nodded. “He didn’t happen to say what he had Simmons doing, did he?”

Coulson gave him a curious look. “No. No, that didn’t come up. Why?” 

Fitz took a deep, wavering breath. “I haven’t heard from her. And nobody on this godforsaken plane can tell me where she is.” 

Coulson laid a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sure she’s fine, Fitz. Probably just forgot her phone or something.” 

... _forgot her **phone**? _

_Jemma._  

The same woman who had that bloody thing on another **fucking** planet _forgot her phone_? 

But he knew Coulson had no idea. So he shrugged in agreement. “Yeah. Yeah. Guess you’re right.” 

And the minute Coulson released his shoulder and walked away, _his_ phone was already out.

And for the seventh time, he was greeted with...

_Absolutely._

_**NOTHING.** _

_-_

_“Jemma._ **Please.** Just bloody pick up your phone. This makes eight. _EIGHT_. Come on, Jemma. I have to know. I have to know you’re - I have to know. I have to - I have to - I have to - _just._ **Jemma.** ” 

-

_WHERE. THE. **FUCKING. HELL.** WAS. SHE.?_

He finally got bloody clearance on the redacted files. And the bastard who gave him bloody clearance didn’t know where Simmons was either. 

_**‘Course** he didn’t. _

He wasn’t even phased when there was no answer for **_the ninth fucking time._**

_WHERE. THE. **FUCKING. HELL.** WAS. SHE.?_

-

And when he called again, he didn’t even bother leaving another message. Ten unanswered calls made one thing clear to him.

Jemma.

Was. 

In. 

**TROUBLE.**

...

...

...

_**Bloody.** _

_**HELL.** _

_**-** _

And until he was done with this **fucking** life-or-death consequences mission, he couldn’t do a _damn_ thing about it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is for Fitz_like_a_Jem who’s my upbeat sister from another mister and basks in the angst and drama.


	11. She'll Find Hope

“I don’t understand. Why was I dismissed so quickly? Was that all they needed? Who were they? Who was that man? Why did -” 

“Agent Simmons. There’s something you should know.” 

The agent handed her her phone.

_Thirteen missed calls._

**Ten** from Fitz. 

**_TEN._ **

Six new voicemails.

“Agent Simmons, ma’am? I said there’s something you should know.” 

The agent’s voice seemed muffled as she stared at her phone. Like she were in another space altogether and any voice that wasn’t _his_ got lost in the fog.

_Ten missed calls._

“Agent Simmons?” 

She forced herself to snap back into the present.

“Yes? Well, go on then. What is it?” 

“There was an incident.” 

She _knew._

_There was an incident. An incident. An incident. An incident. An -_

“I have the director on the line. He’ll tell you the rest.” 

She numbly took the phone, holding it up to her ear.

Waiting. 

_“Agent Simmons. We need you and your science expertise back here. I’m just gonna cut right to the chase. We lost Agent Coulson, Robbie Reyes, and...”  
_

She _knew_.

_“...and also Agent Fitz to... to an explosion caused by matter manipulation.”  
_

He kept talking.

She stopped listening.

His voice was in the fog too.

_We lost Agent Fitz._

**_We lost Agent Fitz._ **

**WE LOST AGENT FITZ.**

**FITZ. FITZ. FITZ. FITZ. FITZ. FITZ. FITZ. FITZ. FITZ. FITZ.**

_“Let me just stop for a moment and say that I can’t imagine the pain you’re feeling, and I have no other words for you than my deepest sympathies.”_

_Right._

_His deepest sympathies._

_Give me a fucking -_

_“But Agent Simmons, we think we’ve found a way to get them back. On the video feed, they appear to have simply vanished... Dr. Radcliffe is working with Aida and May in the lab, and they’re confident they’re close to a solution.”  
_

Inhale.

Exhale.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Inhale.

Exhale.

“Director,” Jemma stated in a thin voice through gritted teeth. “Why the _hell_ would you not start with that first?”

The director sighed on the other end.  _“Because if this doesn’t work, you need to be prepared for the alternative.”_

“The alternative? The _alternative_? Why don’t you just come out and say it? You need me to be prepared for Fitz’s death.” 

_“Agent Simmons, we’re hopeful this will -”_

“You tell me _everything_ you know about what happened and what’s being done. Leave nothing out.” 

-

After a grim seventeen minutes of debrief, Jemma ended the call and looked down at her phone again.

She selected the option to play all her new voicemails and held the phone to her ear.

And then she heard his voice. 

A voice of annoyance and a voice of anger and a voice of worry and a voice of affection and a voice of love of love of love and a voice of panic, and she stopped playing them when she heard _not_ his voice and the fog was back and

_Found a way to get them back._

_A way to get them back._

_Get them back._

_Get him back._

_**GET. HIM. BACK.** _

She didn’t dare listen to his messages again. She had to cling to the hope that Mace knew what he was talking about. She had to cling to the hope that she could trust him.

Given that he just kidnapped her and separated her from Fitz when he needed her the most... 

It wasn’t easy to trust someone like that.

But she had to because

Because

Because

Because

She couldn’t lose him. She couldn’t and she wouldn’t and she was transported to another planet, and he found her. He was ninety feet below without oxygen, and he survived. This wasn’t the end.

He couldn’t throw in the towel. She needed him.

She needed him. She’d prided herself on her independence for years. She needed no one to succeed. She got through and survived being in an entirely different solar system for one month by herself. She didn’t need a soul. She was capable, she was resourceful, she was wildly competent.

But she needed him.

She needed him.

She wouldn’t let the universe tear them apart. 

She wouldn’t let it.

She promised and he promised and they promised and there was so much love and that had to count for something, right? 

It _had_ to.

He couldn’t just...

He _couldn’t_.

-

Twenty-three minutes later, she received another call. The agent passed the phone to her and winced when it was all but snatched from his grasp.

_“Agent Simmons. I’m pleased to inform you that Fitz and the others are back.”_

Inhale.

Exhale.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Inhale.

Exhale.

“Thank you for letting me know.” She thrust the phone back to the wary agent.

And then she buried her face in her hands.

And wept.

-

She listened to each of his voicemails again. 

And thought about the _stupid_ argument they had. 

She’d have sixty more of them with him in a heartbeat. 

She just needed to _see_ him.

It all seemed so petty now. She didn’t care who was right. She didn’t care who was wrong. 

She only cared about... _well_. 

A great deal many things that did not concern whether Fitz told her about his new science project or not. 

She just needed to _see_ him. 

-

“Fitz. Where is he?” She was disoriented. When she wasn’t looking at her phone or talking to Mace, the agents put the bag back on her head (”Director’s orders”). But she was back on base, and she could finally see again, and the only thing she wanted to see -

_“Jemma?”_

His voice. 

It was him.

“What? Fitz!” 

And.

There.

He. 

Was.

“Jemma.” 

She reached and he reached and it was like they were on that bloody planet again, holding on to their last shred of hope. They were ninety feet below again, holding on to ease the pain of their inevitable loss. 

But he was there and she was there and they really _shouldn’t_  have been there. They’d had so many close calls and brushes with death that, mathematically, the odds of them continuing to survive were...

... _frankly..._

But that didn’t matter.

Because he held her to him, breathing her in.

And she gripped him tightly, nuzzling into his neck.

They didn’t let go.

Until they did. 

“Well,” Mace chuckled. “Seems like you two had quite a day. Go ahead and take the rest of it off.” 

Jemma fixed Mace with a steely glare.

“If you think,” Fitz’s tone was lethal. “That I’m going to just forget what you’ve done with Simmons, then you’ve got another thing coming.” 

Mace crossed his arms. “Is that a threat, Agent Fitz?” 

“It’s a promise.” 

-

And then they were back in their shared bunk, and really it was the loveliest little home, and she had never been so grateful for it, and if he had asked her, right then, she would’ve said yes to ten “Bridgets” in their little home.

Luckily, he didn’t ask.

He wrapped her up in his arms again.

“I thought I’d never be able to do this again,” Fitz breathed.

“Do what, Fitz?” 

“Touch you.” His voice had quieted to an intimate whisper. “Hold you.” His grip tightened. “ _Feel_ you.” One hand rested on her chest above her racing heart. “Kiss you.” 

And then he leaned down a little and she leaned up a little, and their lips met somewhere in between.

She broke away from the passionate kiss, panting heavily. “Obviously, I’m going to -” 

Fitz captured her lips again. 

She leaned back again. “-need to know everything that happened.” 

Fitz’s lips moved to her cheek and then down to her neck, sucking softly on her neck. 

“Mace, as usual, had no idea what was happening.”

Fitz reached between them and unbuttoned her blazer.

“But we can talk after, yeah?” 

She felt more than heard his chuckle. 

“ _God_ , yeah.” Fitz muttered as he kissed her again, stripping her of her blazer. 

And then Fitz proceeded to worship every inch of her body. 

She was dying to know what had actually happened. 

She wanted to know what made him more tactile than usual. She wanted to know what caused him to pay extra attention to the inside of her elbows or her left shin or the space behind her ears. She wanted to know of all this.

But was far too turned on to actually find out.

And when he finally entered her, the last bit of grief she experienced that day escaped her weary head and her broken heart. 

He was here. 

She was here.

They were here. 

And that was all that mattered.

-

She rested on his chest, catching her breath, and he played with her hair with one hand while the other drew nonsensical designs on her back.

“I almost lost you.” 

It was a statement. Not a question. 

Still, he answered anyway. “Yeah.” 

“Again.” 

“Yeah.” He pressed a kiss to her temple. “I was... well. I was trapped in another dimension.” 

Inhale. 

Exhale.

Inhale. 

Exhale.

Inhale.

Exhale.

“Another... another _dimension_?” 

“Mhmm.” 

All sorrow and worry and fear was absent from his tone, and since she was resting on him, _proving_ he was there with her and - not in said dimension - she gave into her curiosity. 

“What was it like?” 

-

“I’m sorry by the way. For not telling you about Aida. You were right. The secret almost tore us apart.” 

Was he serious? 

Did he really think she cared about...

Not when he was spooned against her, his arm holding her tightly to him. 

She turned her head to look at him. “I know why you did. And the secret didn’t tear us apart.” She turned around fully to face him. 

“ _Mace_ did.” 

-

“You can ask Coulson and Robbie. I was a broken record, trying to get back to you. And then when Mace _lost_ you to those political wolves... You were gone, and I was gone, and I had a bloody front-row ticket to the whole damn thing.” 

Jemma smoothed the crease in his eyebrows. “We’ve proven we’re stronger than that numerous times now.” 

Fitz gently grasped her hand, kissing each finger. 

“Yeah, you’re bloody right about that.” 

She scooted closer to him to the point where she shared his pillow. 

He didn’t mind.

“Now let’s talk about that place Daisy found.” 

Jemma giggled. “Oh, I don’t know. In light of recent activities, I’ve grown rather fond of _this_ one.” 

Fitz rolled his eyes. “Now, you tell me.” 

She swatted his chest playfully, and he grabbed her wrist before she could do it again. His eyes grew misty, and his smile slackened a bit.

“What, Fitz?” 

FItz shook his head sheepishly. “It’s stupid. I just - I’ve never been so grateful for you to actually slap me and for me to actually _feel_ it.” 

Jemma wrinkled her nose. “Bit naughty, don’t you think?” 

Fitz sighed. “Jemma...” 

She leaned over, her face hovering above his, nuzzled his nose with her own, and kissed him. 

“It’s not stupid. And I’ll slap you as much as you need.” 

Fitz grinned, hugging her to him, and rolling them over. “What more could a man ask for?” 

And then he leaned down and kissed her. 

 _For good measure_  he muttered huskily in her ear. 

There were things that still needed to be discussed. There were things that still needed to be addressed. 

But Fitz was tearily rejoicing that he was able to simply touch her again and she was able to touch him, and - really - that was all that mattered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is for the amazing anon who has been patiently waiting for a 4x07 coda from yours truly. 
> 
> Honestly, life has been very busy, and I made sure to spend as much time as I could with family and friends. Glad I could finally crank this out. 
> 
> I hope you’ve enjoyed. 
> 
> <3 
> 
> As to the rest, I remember each and every request. They are coming. I promise! And definitely feel free to request more. I’m up for it. But unlike the summer/fall, you may not get them in a timely manner. 
> 
> And if you’re okay with that, then so am I! :D


	12. Father Said

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This could be a trigger for some. And I admit, I don’t have firsthand experience with this. I tried to stick as close to what was said in the episode, so as not to romanticize the situation, and I hope that comes across here.

It had been six months since he finally thought of something clever to say to one Dr. Jemma Simmons, and it was safe to say he had found a kindred spirit in her. They were inseparable. She challenged him. He challenged her. They made each other better scientists. He had always thought they’d get on, but it was a true relief to discover how right he truly was. 

She was his very best friend. 

And it had been six months of that instant connection when she said it. 

It was in the form of a joke. A seemingly harmless joke spawned from frustration and a week of late nights in the lab, and it flew out of her mouth with as much ease as exhaling a quick breath. 

“Are you mad, Fitz? Do you know how much work we’ll have to do if we pursue that hypothesis? You know, for a brilliant rocket scientist, you can be quite stupid sometimes. Let’s actually brainstorm some _right_...” 

But he didn’t hear the rest. 

**_Why was I given such a stupid son?_ **

**_Stupid._ **

**_Worthless._ **

**_Good for nothing._ **

**_You’ll never amount to anything._ **

“I’m not stupid,” Fitz said quietly, cutting Jemma off. 

Jemma stopped and looked at him curiously. “Of course you’re not, Fitz. I’m just saying your idea was stupid.” 

Fitz nodded a bit too enthusiastically, and he backed away from her a bit. “Yeah, but that’s not what you actually said. I’m not stupid, Jemma.” 

Jemma rubbed her neck. “No, I know. Please. It’s just been a long week, and it came out all wrong. I don’t think you’re --” 

“Yeah, just,” Fitz held up his hand to silence her.

He could feel his eyes moisten and had to get out of there. 

Fast.

He escaped the lab, ignoring the _Fitz_ s and the _Come back_ s until they faded behind him, curling into the vast expanse of the empty hallway. 

**_You’ll never be good enough._ **

“Stop,” Fitz pleaded to the silence through gritted teeth. “ _Stop_.” 

He stumbled into the open elevator and pressed the button for the ground floor. 

He rested his head against the cool metal of the door. 

He hurried out of the elevator and almost collided with a third-year and didn’t stop to apologize because he couldn’t stop to apologize because if he had stopped to apologize he would’ve been stopping to apologize for eternity and he couldn’t he couldn’t he couldn’t he couldn’t he c o u l d n ‘ t 

He zipped through the sliding door and the beaming sun greeted him and the light was exposing all his mistakes his shortcomings his demons and

And then he ran.

He ran from the voice in his head and he ran to outsprint his past because if he ran just a bit faster _then_ t h e n

But, as always, he fell short of his abilities and the voice was louder, and he started to thrash around a little, swatting at the unwanted guest. 

The guest didn’t leave. 

The guest never left. 

He ran to his dormitory and flew up the stairs once inside and sprinted towards his room and unlocked the door and then slammed the door with enough force that a couple of books fell from his shelf, clattering to the floor. He stood, squeezing his eyes tightly, taking deep breaths the way his therapist had taught him. 

He sat on his bed. 

And then reached for the picture he kept on his nightstand. 

The warmth of his mum’s smile made his lips twitch. 

A knock startled him. 

“Fitz?"

Fitz took a breath. 

And then another.

“Come in,” he said before he could stop himself, wiping his eyes and slamming his picture back on the nightstand. 

The door creaked open. Jemma walked in, not even trying to hide her worried look. 

“You’re upset,” she said simply.

She closed the door behind her and leaned against it.

Fitz nodded.

“I don’t know if this is the right time for me to... as British as I am, my parents could never really fully teach me proper etiquette in social situations.” 

Fitz inwardly winced at the word “parents”. 

She had _two_.

“It’s just,” Jemma continued. “You’ve become a dear friend to me, and dear friends show concern when one is upset, right?” 

Fitz continued to be silent. 

“Unless... that’s not what you need? Should I go?” Jemma reached behind her for the doorknob, and Fitz’s brain kicked into full gear.

“Don’t go.” 

He didn’t expect to say that. But when he saw her make actual moves to leave... as much as he didn’t want her there... he didn’t want to be alone even more.

Alone with his thoughts. 

Alone with the voice. 

“Stay.” 

“’Kay,” she whispered, letting go of the doorknob. 

Fitz pointed to the bed. 

An invitation. 

She accepted.

“You know,” Fitz began. “You know how I’ve said it’s just me and my mum?” 

Jemma nodded. 

“That’s -- that’s true. _Now_.” 

**_Stupid._ **

**_Worthless._ **

**_Not good e-_ **

Fitz shook his rapidly, back and forth, banishing the demons. 

“My father, he...” 

This was hard. 

This was very hard. 

Jemma reached forward, placing her hand on his. 

He stared down at her hand. 

And conjured up the courage he needed to tell her. 

To really tell her. 

So he did. 

He told her. 

Tears started collecting in his eyes again, and tears started running down Jemma’s cheeks, and those tears were simply droplets in the ocean shed over that fucking man. 

“I’m so,” Jemma gasped through her sob. “I’m so sorry for what I said. You have to know I didn’t mean it. At all. It just came out, and it was a terrible joke, and I’m deeply --” 

Fitz shook his head. “Jemma, come on. I know you didn’t mean it. But now you know why I... why I... um... reacted the way I did.” 

Jemma gripped his hand tighter. “You listen to me, Leopold Fitz. Really listen, okay?” 

Fitz saw where this going.

He didn’t want her pity. 

“Jemma, don’t,” Fitz said softly.

Jemma shook her head. “No,” she said. “You need to hear it.” 

“Jemma,” Fitz pleaded again.

“That _man_ is the only one who’s worthless. Stupid. You are brilliant, Fitz. You got your doctorate at the age of sixteen. You’re in the most prestigious training program for scientists in the world. Your mind is remarkable. Farthest thing from stupid. And I won’t let you ever forget that.” 

He put his hand on top of their hands and that was the only response they both needed.

And then.

It wasn’t overnight. 

It wasn’t a week’s time. 

Or a month’s.

Or a year’s.

But. 

Slowly. 

Gradually. 

The voice that had haunted him for so long became replaced by one that didn’t. 

One that only supported him and encouraged him and **l-loved** him and -- he found that was the only voice that mattered.

That was the only voice worth listening to.


	13. Until They Kill You

It wasn’t it wasn’t it wasn’t it wasn’t it wasn’t it wasn’t it wasn’t it wasn’t it wasn’t it wasn’t it wasn’t it wasn’t it wasn’t it wasn’t 

not not not not not not not not not not not not not not not not not not not not not not not not not not not not not not 

That 

T-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-thatttttttttttttttttt

Wasn’t 

She could barely move but she kept moving because if she stopped moving she’d be killed so she kept moving even though she could barely move 

Had to had to had to kkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkeep had to 

She grabbed the grabbed the _knife_ before she left him -- _**NOT HIM**_  -- alone in the room. 

She had to keep keep keep keep

She knew she was leaving a trail of blood. Of hers, of ~~his~~ _**no** _ of _not_ -his it wasn’t wasn’t wasn’t him it wasn’t 

She collapsed against the wall once she found a place to hide. 

She was safe.

She was safe. 

For now. 

She knew she was -- 

She was short-circuiting. She could feel it. Not because she was a -- 

She was Jemma Anne Simmons. Not anyone’s replica. 

Of that she was sure. 

~~She hoped.~~

~~-~~

They took him. They took him. They took him like they took Daisy like they took Mace like they took Mack like they took Coulson like they took May and replaced him with an imposter who fooled her and betrayed her and manipulated her and --

_Ouch._

She looked at her leg.

\-- stabbed her. 

She was alone. She was all by herself and she was being hunted and she was all alone, and she didn’t know what she was going to do. 

She heard a noise and flattened herself against the wall, breathing heavily. 

She was -- not she -- not _she -_ \- **it was here.**

-

Daisy’s L.M.D. pointed the shotgun axe at her, but Jemma had too much -- _just too too too much_ \-- and she knew she was in danger -- that this could be the end -- but she stood her ground, threatening not-Daisy with the knife she used to to to 

**I’M ME.**

**I’M ME.**

**I’M ME.**

But the L.M.D. tried to convince her over and over just like just like _his_ tried to convince her over and over of the contrary. 

**“I’m me.”** She said with conviction with rage with stubbornness and 

~~**she had to be -- she had to be --** ~~

But the L.M.D. wouldn’t leave her alone. And tried to manipulate her just like _his_ manipulated her. 

And the worst bit was it almost working. 

She was almost falling for it. 

A second time.

A second time, she was almost falling for it. 

She gritted her teeth and stood her ground. 

**“Don’t touch me!”**

And then she was grabbed and thrown against the wall and then trapped, until she felt --

inside her -- the gentle breeze of wind and vibration, and Daisy -- _**DAISY** _ \-- sighed, holding her tight, and she collapsed against Daisy, crying from relief. 

“Oh, thank God.” 

They held each other for awhile. 

She gripped Daisy tighter. Felt her flesh beneath her fingertips.

She wasn’t alone. 

She wasn’t alone. 

Daisy -- true _real_ **living breathing** Daisy was holding her and crying from real emotions dredged up from real pain and real assurance, and Jemma could feel herself suffocate from real relief. 

She wasn’t alone. 

She collapsed from the sheer knowledge of that one true, one perfect fact. 

_She wasn’t alone._

“Woa, Jemma!” Daisy struggled to catch her and looked down at Jemma’s leg. “Oh my God,” she breathed.

“H-h-h-is his L.M.D. stabbed me. It _stabbed_ me.” 

Daisy held her tighter. “Okay. Okay.” 

She allowed Daisy to drag her to a better, a safer spot. 

She allowed Daisy to do this because she didn’t physically have to anymore. She wasn’t fighting with every breath -- every muscle --- every part of her --against a -- a machine anymore. 

Daisy was living and breathing and guiding her and she let her. 

They settled against the wall, and Daisy began to tend to her wounds, and she leaned her head against the wall, and she closed her eyes. 

“He’s gone,” she sobbed. “Fitz is -- Fitz is _gone_. They’re all gone, Daisy. They’re all gone.” 

Daisy continued to wrap Jemma’s leg. “There’s still hope,” she said with conviction.

Jemma sighed. 

_**Hope.** _

The entire base was against the two of them. They were going to be killed. And their friends were gone.

_**He** was gone._

~~**And without him, there was no hope.** ~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m gonna say this right now. This episode was so fucking amazing that I can see myself writing codas for every scene. I just wanted to get what was most in my heart/mind down and post. Like, I literally just wanted to see where my base instincts led me. 
> 
> So don’t think that this is it for the episode. I will be writing and writing. And definitely feel free to request whatever you most want to see (except spec fic. There are so many who are already knocking it out of the park with spec fic). 
> 
> This was - without a doubt - my favorite episode of the series. A true, true masterpiece. 
> 
> I have not fully recovered in the best, best way. 
> 
> And of course, request whatever you’d like to see in other eps too.


	14. We Have Our Own Life to Save

There was an odd certain amount of respect that buzzed between the three on the quinjet ride back to base.

And rather than feeling unnerved about it, Jemma felt grateful. Maybe Mace was a man they could... _trust_... after all. 

But still...

“I wish Vijay had chosen S.H.I.E.L.D. instead of the senator. Who knows what horrors he’s encountering right now?” 

Daisy reached over and took Jemma’s hand, squeezing briefly, and Jemma’s eyes flicked over to Daisy’s in gratitude. 

Mace looked back and forth between the two until he finally said, “The camaraderie that’s displayed with you six really is something else.”

Jemma smiled, releasing her hand. “Well, if you only knew what we’ve been through...” 

“Agent Johnson shed some light for me on that.” 

Jemma turned towards Daisy who only shrugged. 

“I may have mentioned your multiple kidnappings. And Maveth,” Daisy’s tone was casual, but Jemma knew she was highly amused. 

Mace let a out a low whistle. “Color me impressed. You’re your own force to be reckoned with, aren’t you?” 

“I’m glad you finally recognize that, sir.” 

Mace pursed his lips. “There’s something that you mentioned, Daisy, that makes a lot more sense. When we were on the quinjet, trying to figure out how to bring back Agents Fitz, Coulson, and Robbie Reyes...” Jemma could feel Daisy tense beside her, and she knew Daisy was worried about what happened to Robbie.

They all were. 

But for Daisy, it was different. They were vigilantes. True vigilantes, working together. A partnership. 

Daisy had confided in her a bit about their relationship, and even though Jemma didn’t approve of all of Robbie’s actions, she was thankful Daisy had someone. 

Even if wasn’t their team. 

Even if it wasn’t _her_.

“...you mentioned Fitz pulling Simmons through space through a rock. What -- I mean, what did you --” 

Daisy rolled her eyes. “Isn’t it obvious? Fitz got her back.” 

“I’m surprised, Mace. Weren’t you briefed about the events on Maveth, and the consequences that followed, when you became director?”

“Sure, I was. But Coulson conveniently left you and Fitz out of the debrief.” 

_Why on earth..._

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Daisy voiced Jemma’s thoughts.

“My guess is... he didn’t _trust_ me enough to inform me about your role in it.” 

Jemma was still confused. “But why would my involvement have any merit --” 

“Think about it, Jemma,” Mace interrupted, not unkindly.

Jemma locked eyes with Daisy who appeared as puzzled as she was. 

What was Coulson trying to achieve? How would Mace knowing about what happened with her and Fitz...

_Oh._

“He didn’t want you to see my history with Fitz as a threat. He was afraid of you splitting us up,” Jemma said slowly.

“You were very upfront and forthcoming about your relationship with him. I mean, you were sharing a bunk for crying out loud.” 

“But Coulson didn’t want you to know just how much they meant to each other,” Daisy added.

Mace chuckled. “It was a solid, commendable plan. Although, the lengths he took were a bit unnecessary. It took me all of five minutes to realize the strong connection you two had.” 

Jemma winced, “He told me about his confrontation with you. Sorry about that. Fitz can be a little...

“...intense,” Daisy supplied.

“Yes.” 

“Hey, the guy had a legitimate reason. He knew I was being blackmailed by Nadeer. Hence the whole bag-over-your-head thing.” 

“Which was a shitty move,” Daisy said. “But if you didn’t do that, we never would’ve found out about Vijay.” 

“A lot of good it did us,” Jemma muttered darkly.

“We did everything we could,” Mace repeated his words from earlier. “And, for what it’s worth, both of you should be commended for your work today.” 

“Thanks?” Daisy cocked her head. 

“I’m serious. I’m blown away by the strength and heart of your team. I only hope that, moving forward, you’ll allow me to be a part of it.” 

Jemma and Daisy shared a look.

 “Well,” Jemma began, her eyes dancing with mirth. “It’s quite a relief to be able to trust our director. And you know what they say that about a team that trusts.”

“I dare you to finish that thought.” 

“Wait, I forget,” Daisy said with her own shit-eating grin. “A team that trusts is a team that... wins?” 

“Conquers?” Jemma suggested, straight-faced.

“Succeeds?” 

“Excels?”

“You two are hilarious, you know that? If this whole agent thing doesn’t work out, you should go into stand-up.” Mace cut in drily. 

“Hey, you chose the hokey slogan. That’s on you, man,” Daisy said.

“I may have read one too many motivational self-help books to prepare for my position.” 

Daisy and Jemma burst into laughter. 

It felt really, really good to laugh. 

“Carnegie really spoke to you, didn’t he?” Jemma teased.

“In my defense, Dale was a visionary.” 

“And here I was thinking you were a _Who Moved My Cheese?_ kind of guy.” 

“Watch it, Agent Johnson.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This could be an explanation for why Mace was so #shocked when Daisy mentions Jemma on another planet. Because you’d think the events on Maveth would’ve been the first thing Mace was informed about by Coulson or Talbot. 
> 
> [Did you catch my little nod to one brilliantly titled episode?]
> 
> When am I not gonna participate in a rewatch? I ask you... when?? 
> 
> Feel free to submit any and all prompts! Still working on many, and still writing in response to the last aired episode because yes.


	15. The One Advantage We Have

She felt like the lab walls were closing in. 

It wasn’t possible. 

It couldn’t be… right? 

But it was. 

AIDA’s and Radcliffe’s and _May’_ s L.M.D.s  proved that theory. 

And now. 

The android count escalated. 

Her first thought was to flee. 

Was to grab Fitz and run. 

She’d be damned if she lost him too. 

But Fitz reminded her to adopt more of a survival mindset. 

_**They can’t know that we know.** _

His reasoning was sound, but her heart was filled with lead as she thought of them remaining at the base a minute longer. 

Surely, they were being targeted as they spoke.

Surely, they were meant to replaced. 

Or killed. 

Paranoia started to seep into her bones, and Fitz –  _God, she was so grateful for Fitz_ – understood and began to soothe her, rubbing her arms gently, his simple nod letting her know she wasn’t alone. 

_That’s right._

_She wasn’t alone._

She had Fitz who was as horrified as she was. 

And they’d get through it together. 

Like they always did. 

And as Fitz was divulging a plan, suggesting they act as normal as possible, she clung to that mantra. 

_They’d get through it together._

And that thought gave her the push she needed to start brainstorming solutions to their deadly predicament. 

Coulson’s voice sent chills up her spine, and she tried to not react – she really, truly did – but she spun around a bit too quickly, and she cursed herself for not displaying a cooler head. 

She could feel Fitz stiffen next to her.

As Coulson’s L.M.D. continued to probe Fitz for answers about the submarine, she worked on finding her inner calm, striving to channel Agent May, and continued to remind herself that she and Fitz would get through it together. 

She could tell he was nervous. 

He acted convincingly, conveying a bit of a nonchalance, but she could tell he was nervous. 

_You’re doing great, Fitz. Keep it up, love._

And then Mack’s L.M.D. cut in, and his objectivity had increased by tenfold. He always excelled on remaining fairly stoic in the field, but this was something else entirely. 

Still. 

She knew she needed to speak, 

She couldn’t arouse suspicion. 

She couldn’t act like anything was wrong.

Even though, it was alarming – in other circumstance – for Coulson and Mack to suggest to bring all the inhumans to the base. 

Most likely to eradicate them.

She and Fitz couldn’t let that happen.

But what could they do? 

They were two humans against killer androids. 

She inched closer to the exit, and Fitz followed her lead when Mace’s and Daisy’s androids blocked their exit, joining the group. 

She and Fitz were trapped. 

Amongst the L.M.D.s, they were stuck, pretending nothing was awry. 

Mace shouldn’t have been able to recover that quickly. 

 _Mace **didn’t** recover that quickly_, she reminded herself. 

Her heart sped up when Mace’s L.M.D. suggested he take Jemma with him to discuss logistics. 

Her heart slowed when Fitz stepped in and rescued her. 

The other four left the two in peace. 

They were safe. 

They were safe for now. 

He gripped her hand again the minute they left. 

“You okay?” Fitz murmured. 

Jemma nodded.

-

Fitz suggested they grab the remainder of his and Radcliffe’s Framework equipment, so they could continue to piece together what happened to their friends and how they were going to evade capture. 

It was a good idea – it kept the two of them focussed on a plan and kept their minds active. 

She propositioned they bring the equipment to the workshop and continue to work there, away from detection, and he readily agreed. 

They needed a spot to lay low. 

She was grateful to have some sort of anchor to hold onto – to grasp. Her thoughts began to loosen, and instead of unraveling, she and Fitz began bouncing ideas off each other. 

They built off one another’s ideas, solving what exactly happened to the rest of their friends in order to formulate the precautions the two of them needed to take to ensure they weren’t the next victims. 

She was heartbroken over her friends. 

But she couldn’t dwell on it now. 

She and Fitz had to keep working. 

The normalcy of their dynamic grounded her. 

The whole world was caving in on them, but she put one foot in front of the other, working side-by-side with her boyfriend. 

They were safe. 

They were safe for now.

-

And that’s when everything she thought she knew – everything she clung to – everything everything everything _everything_ went. to. utter. **shit.**

The blocked letters in white, stained in red, horrified her to her very core. 

She couldn’t breathe. 

She couldn’t _breathe._

##  **[1] L.M.D. DETECTED – WEST SECTOR**

She was still reeling from what she saw when he crept up behind her, asking to look. 

She dumbly handed over the laptop. 

And then it actually, fully, completely sunk in, and she took a small step away from him. 

And then another. 

And then another. 

She had to rely on her feet because her mind was spinning. 

Completely spinning. 

She allowed her feet to carry her farther and farther away from him as he voiced his suspicion of a calibration error. 

She allowed her feet to carry her farther and farther away from…

from…

from…

from…

from…

She couldn’t breathe.

She frantically reached for a gun, unlocking the safety and fixing it on the L.M.D.

For that’s what he was, right? 

She was bloody sure she wasn’t. 

So it _had_ to be him.

“Stay right there,” she commanded forcefully as he threw up his hands, protesting in fear. 

It wasn’t _him_. She couldn’t lose focus. 

Her life depended on it. 

He pleaded with her, fear dripping in his tone, and she had to harness every bit of self control she had to not waver. 

She couldn’t. 

She couldn’t waver. 

“Why are you pointing a gun at me?!” Fitz shrieked, and his shriek echoed through her, and she didn’t want 

didn’t – didn’t want – didn’t 

But she had to. 

Had to remain steadfast. 

Even as his expression changed from one of fear to utter betrayal and heartbreak.

**“It’s you.”**

She didn’t know when the tears had started to fall, but they were streaming steadily down her face, and her mouth started to quiver because _**what. gave. him. the. right.?**_

Her voice broke as she pleaded with him – weakly – to shut up.

But he wouldn’t stop. The more he spoke, the faster his words flew out, and each one hit her square in the face, and he kept hurling accusation after accusation at her. 

_This wasn’t happening._

_**This wasn’t happening.** _

But it was. 

It _bloody_ was. 

She defended herself, matching each of his allegations blow for blow until he was screaming – he was **screaming** – at her, and she was **screaming** at him. 

**“I bloody well know that I’m not an android!”**

**“You would lie and say that if you were! You’d be programmed to!”  
**

And then a look of sympathy crossed Fitz’s features, and that was harder to deal with than his screaming at her, because 

becausebecausebecause _~~what if he was right?~~_

He looked at her with such compassion. 

_You don’t even know._

His words were fucking with her brain, and she just wanted him to stop talking because the more he talked the weaker in her resolve she felt, and she fired back. 

_The same goes for you._

But they both knew her argument lessened and lessened in absolute certainty. He could sense her wavering.

And then he broke her heart.

He broke her heart.

**_This always happens to you, to me, to us. It’s my worst fear coming true again._ **

His proclamation was so passionate, and he was crying, and she was crying, and she couldn’t take it. 

She couldn’t take _him_. 

She begged him to stop. 

**“It’s not me, Jemma!”  
**

His scream was full of hurt and terror and conviction and feeling, and it just fueled her even more.

**“Well, it’s one of us!”**

He stared back at her, stunned. 

She didn’t lower her gun. 

Her anger faded to despair.

To absolute despair. 

_“It’s one of us, Fitz.”_

And there they stood. Neither of them moving away or towards each other. They were at a stalemate. 

And then he placed the blame squarely on his shoulders.

She didn’t have it in her to disagree.

She couldn’t let her guard down. 

She couldn’t break focus.

The more he spoke, the more she wavered. 

“Don’t make me feel bad for you,” she demanded. **“Don’t hurt me.”**

She was at her most vulnerable, pleading with him brokenly. 

**_Don’t hurt me._ **

She pleaded with her words, and she pleaded with her heart, and she pleaded with her tears, and he shook his head sadly. 

_I couldn’t._

**_Don’t hurt me._ **

He surrendered to her then. Volunteering to do whatever she told him to. Rightfully serving his penance for what he had done to her. To him. To _them._

She desperately wanted to put the gun down and run to his arms. 

The need to be comforted and held by him consumed her. 

But she couldn’t.

She couldn’t lose focus. 

She couldn’t waver. 

She had to be absolutely sure. 

She _had_ to.

“Pick it up,” she ordered coldly. 

She knew he understood exactly what she wanted him to do.

But he just looked at her with a heart-stricken, defeated, surrendered expression. 

**_Don’t hurt me._ **

Giving her a chance to take it back. 

Giving her a chance to take it back before she even said it. 

Giving her one last chance to denounce the monster within her. 

But she wasn’t a monster. 

No matter how he saw it. 

No matter what he said. 

She wasn’t a monster, and she wasn’t an android, and she _needed_ him to do this. 

It was the only way. 

**_Don’t hurt me._ **

She spoke the words aloud, confirming what they both knew she wanted him to do.

It was the only way. 

He gave her one last plea, but she stood strong, and then he picked up the knife, and paused, waiting for her to speak up. 

To stop him.

But she didn’t. 

She couldn’t.

It was the only way.

And then she watched the love of her life slice his wrist at her command, and he doubled over from the pain and blood loss. 

She kept the gun trained on him. 

Dread completely filled her as she started to realize that there must have been a calibration error.

Just as Fitz had said.

_Oh, Fitz._

Her guilt flowed as quickly and steadily as the blood from his wrist. Her guilt fell – drop by scarlet drop – to the floor. 

She slowly made her way toward him.

He was going to bleed out if neither of them made a move. 

She grabbed a cloth.

She made her way toward him.

“Fitz,” she breathed.

And then blinding pain.

-

She fired and fired, but he was strong. 

He was so strong.

 _It_ was so strong.

He raised her arms almost effortlessly, and the shot after shot she fired continuously hit the ceiling. 

She struggled against the pain and the horror and _him_ , but he was strong. 

And his movements were swift. 

And then there was nothingness.

-

She awoke with a massive headache and and searing pain in her leg, and everything – every nightmarish detail – flew to her and the reminder of what happened – what was happening – tore through her fuzzy haze. 

“I need you conscious to map your frontal lobe, so you can’t be too heavily sedated.” 

His words – _its words –_ filtered in and out of her enough for her to recognize what he was doing. 

“The rest you can sleep through,” he concluded softly. She bristled from his lips on her forehead, the touch so _very, very_ like her Fitz’s. The similarity was deafening. Paralyzing. 

She asked him – point blank – why he was doing what he was doing. 

And as Fitz’s evil robot twin started in on a villainous diatribe, she _**fought**._

Her movements were sluggish, and she simply slid off her chair – she couldn’t even stand – but she _**fought**_. 

The stab wound in her leg only worsened in debilitating pain, but she _ **fought**. _

She crawled at a snail’s pace and heard the L.M.D.’s patronizing tone in Fitz’s stolen voice. 

_Don’t hurt yourself, Jemma._

Too fucking late for that. 

She crawled, telling herself each fresh movement was progress – she had to fight. She had to. 

She had to. 

She had to. 

She wouldn’t give up. 

She couldn’t give up. 

Every muscle of hers screamed in agony, but she _**fought**_. 

Every physical piece of her pleaded with her to surrender, but she _**fought**. _

The next things he said – in a voice so sickeningly dripping with assurance and tenderness – gave her pause. 

**_Get married._ **

**_Grow old together._ **

Her hand on the mallet stilled, and she turned slightly towards him. 

This was Fitz’s mind after all. 

The declaration stunned her a bit.

She told him so. 

And when he responded back with Fitz’s lack of certainty being the barrier, she chuckled hollowly. 

That man. 

What was there to doubt? 

What was there to question? 

She knew she had the android off his guard a bit, distracting him with talk of _them._

This was Fitz’s mind after all. 

So she used the blessed opportunity to muster every ounce of fire and strength she had left. 

“I’ll tell Fitz when I see him,” she declared brazenly, staring into his eyes.

Letting out a brief war cry, she trapped her assailant to the ground with a swing of the mallet. 

She grabbed the knife and stalked over to him.

He was sputtering and panicking, but she remained steadfast. 

She remained firm.

She _**fought**._

_**It’s not him. - It’s not him. - It’s not him. - It’s not him.** _

She stabbed him again and again and again again allowing the mantra to guide her.

**_It’s not him. - It’s not him. - It’s not him. - It’s not him._ **

He cried out. He pleaded. He begged. He screamed. 

But she remained steadfast. 

She remained firm. 

She _**fought**._

He wrapped his hand around her throat, the strength of his hold making it impossible for her to breathe, and she gagged, struggling for air. 

She didn’t stop. 

He didn’t deter her from her movements that had almost turned mechanical. 

...

_Almost._

_..._

**in.**  

out. 

**in.**

out. 

...

He released his hold on her throat and cradled her face, murmuring, trying to convince her – 

And **what. gave. him. the. bloody. right.?**

How **dare** he? 

“It’s me.” 

**_It’s not him._ **

Filled with rage, she plunged the knife into his neck. 

The sparks that sputtered out of him filled her with a strange mix of terror and relief, and she hurriedly backed away from him, shaking all over, letting the knife clatter to the floor. 

-

**I T**

**W A S N ’ T**

##  **_HIM._ **

-

Check out **[Until They Kill You](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Farchiveofourown.org%2Fworks%2F8120869%2Fchapters%2F22198454&t=Y2YyM2ZmYjZiNjI2YTliMGEyYjg2ODEwOTFkM2E1MTI4MThlMDQ2ZSxzWFUyZExkQw%3D%3D&b=t%3AKV5sBgaho5BTk3yvqgYDJg&p=http%3A%2F%2Fconsoledacup.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F157809159089%2Fthe-one-advantage-we-have&m=1)** where Jemma starts to, as Daisy so eloquently puts it, malfunction. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was thinking of doing a huge one-shot of Jemma’s POV during this episode, but for whatever reason, my brain wanted me to attack different scenes in this ep, using different styles, so please take scene-by-scene oneshots in varying levels of intensity and introspection instead. There will be more from this episode. Count on it.


	16. The Next Question

The minute the module landed in the Zephyr, Coulson breathed a huge sigh of relief. The four of them stumbled out to a weary-looking Jemma and Piper. 

It was Daisy who spotted the three unconscious bodies first. 

“So... that’s how Mack was... ?” Daisy let the question hang in the air, and Jemma simply nodded. 

Yo-Yo rushed to Mack’s side, calling out for help from the others. Piper was quick to respond, and Daisy wasn’t far behind her.

May excused herself to assist “whoever the hell decided to fly the damn plane”, leaving Coulson and Jemma alone. 

_Well._

Not entirely alone.

Coulson stepped closer to Jemma, wishing -- just this once -- she didn’t have to be so damn resilient. “So... they’re... ?” Coulson gestured to the two sleeping figures still on the floor. 

“I shot them,” Jemma said quietly but firmly. “I shot them with an ICER.”

Coulson laid a hand on Jemma’s shoulder. “Well, let’s move them before they wake up.” 

He started walking towards Fitz and knew Jemma was in step behind him. They lifted him up with a small grunt and carried him inside the module, laying him down on the little cot. 

He watched Jemma move closer and smooth out Fitz’s hair a bit, her eyes clouded with emotion. 

But... there was one last thing to do.

“Jemma,” Coulson said gently. “We have to...” He pointed towards Aida, still passed out on the floor.

“I know,” Jemma tried to smile.

 It didn’t land.

They left Fitz to retrieve Aida, mutually in agreement of lifting her with less finesse and propping her in a sitting position against the wall.

They both stared at Aida in silence for a beat. 

Coulson broke it.

“She really saved Mack, huh?” 

“Yes,” Jemma said. “I suppose she did. Excuse me.” 

Before he could stop her, she walked out of the module. 

Once he ensured the doors were closed, and Fitz and Aida were contained, he headed towards her, calling her name.

She spun around, and the pain he saw in her eyes nearly silenced him.

Nearly.

“Look, we don’t have much time to process everything. And I can’t begin to imagine what’s going through your head right now.”

“Sir, I should check on Mack’s vitals. I need to ensure that--” 

“You can in a minute. Daisy and the others know what they’re doing,” Coulson cut her off. 

Jemma looked like she wanted to protest but merely said, “Okay.” 

“I just want you to know... the heart you showed while we were in the Framework...” Coulson swallowed thickly. “I couldn’t remember Fitz from this world. I just saw him as the Doctor. But your unwavering devotion to him... It helped me almost remember. To almost see the good in him. You didn’t give up on him.”

Jemma wiped her eyes. “I could never give up on him.” 

“Not just that, Jemma. You didn’t give up on any of us. And for that, we owe you and Daisy our lives.” 

Jemma shook her head. “You don't have to... You didn’t even know me, and yet, you defended me, time and again."

“I may not have remembered you, but that didn’t stop me from being drawn to the strong, capable, and selfless woman you’ve become.” 

Jemma stared at him for a moment and then wrapped her arms around him. He returned the hug, and then he let go. 

“Now go check on Mack, Agent Simmons.” 

Jemma chuckled humorlessly. “Yes, sir.” 

Coulson watched her leave and returned his attention back to the module’s current occupants. 

When Fitz had woken up, he was disoriented and reeling from his actions in the Framework. 

But that still didn’t change what he had done. It may not have been his fault, but until they sure Fitz was still Fitz and not the other guy, he couldn’t let his personal feelings guide him.

He knew the next couple of conversations would be hard. He wanted to give Jemma final say in the matter. They owed her that. 

But if Fitz wasn’t just Fitz, and the Doctor returned with him? 

He hoped Jemma understood what needed to be done. 

He couldn’t let his personal feelings guide him.

It was the cost of being the Director.

-

Check out other **[glimpses](http://consoledacup.tumblr.com/Glimpses)**. :) 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look. Coulson’s “you’ve shown so much heart” line to Fitz just reverberates in my soul, and he witnesses Jemma’s heart firsthand in the Framework, and this poor girl just needed a break, and I really wanted him to give her one. 
> 
> If I think too hard about the camaraderie Mr. Coulson and Jemma shared in the Framework, I will start crying. He was just so paternal with her, even though he had no idea who she was, and she was steadfast and steady with him. 
> 
> I’m very grateful Clark and Elizabeth had those scenes together.


	17. It Felt Natural

**_You mean nothing to me_ **

**_..._ **

**_You don’t have to do this_ **

**_..._ **

**_..._ **

**_Don’t blame yourself_ **

**_..._ **

**_..._ **

**_..._ **

**_I love you_ **

**_..._ **

**_..._ **

**_..._ **

**_..._ **

Fitz’s eyes flew open. 

##  _**What have I done?** _

He started gasping uncontrollably, and his hands shook as he disconnected himself from the Framework.

##  **_What have I done?_ **

His hands shook.

But he could still feel the warmth of the gun in his hand. 

He could still feel the lasting adrenaline pulsing through his veins that reminded him of what he was about to do. 

What he wanted to do. 

What he **needed** to do. 

He could feel the yearning to see her fall lifeless to the ground after begging him for mercy.

After admitting to him that he did not love her.

He had wanted to avenge his father more than anything in the entire world. 

He had wanted to make her pay. 

He had hated her. 

_**Hated** _ the subversive who claimed to love him. 

He had wanted to feel the heat of the gun again.

The gun had felt right in his fingers. 

The gun had felt right, pressed to her skull.

He had readied himself for the blissful release that would come after.

For the vindication he would feel. 

By killing Jemma Simmons in cold blood.

##  **_What have I done?_ **

He stumbled off of the reclined seat, trembling. 

“Oh, God,” he said. 

“Oh, God,” he said again. 

The weight of his sins suffocated him, and for a moment, he couldn’t breathe.

“Oh, God,” he said a third time.

“It’s okay,” A voice cut through the fog, and he felt a hand on his shoulder. “We’re back. Everybody’s safe.” 

##  **_“What have I done?”_ **

Coulson tried to tell Fitz it wasn’t his fault, but Fitz knew the truth. 

Deep in his bones, in his heart of hearts, he had wanted to do each and every one of those things. 

And he did.

Agnes and Mace died because of him.

He had wanted their deaths. 

He drank champagne with his father afterward.

##  **_What have I done?_ **

“None of that is your fault.” 

And that’s where Coulson was wrong. 

It was clear to him now what kind of person he was. 

What sort of evil resided in him. 

##  **_What have I done?_ **

“I wanted to do those things...” 

##  **_What have I done?_ **

Even Coulson had a hard time rebutting his claim after that.

Because deep down, he knew Coulson felt the same way he did. 

He was a

_**m o n s t e r** _

**_..._ **

##  **_What have I done?_ **

_-_

For others, check out **[this](http://consoledacup.tumblr.com/Glimpses)**. 


	18. He Is a Good Man

“I know him.” 

She is insistent. 

She is passionate. 

She is sure. 

She is so sure, in fact, she’d bet an innocent woman’s life on it. 

It’s him. 

It’s him, and she’s sure. 

She pleads with Ward to show some compassion. She wildly throws herself at his feet, willing to tell him anything he wants to know. 

And in some stroke of luck...

He listens. 

He puts the gun down. 

And they wait. 

_This world isn’t real. This world isn’t real. This world isn’t real._

She’s horrified. 

Why hasn’t Fitz given back the gun? 

What is he doing with Aida? 

Why won’t he listen to Radcliffe? 

Their love is a forever kind of love. Even Aida can’t get in between that. All he has to do is see her face. 

Right? 

If Daisy was able to reach Coulson, all Fitz has to do is... 

Why hasn’t Fitz given back the gun? 

His mind was corrupted by Aida, yes, but that’s just programming. Deep down, he is more than that. 

Deep down, he’s the man she loves. 

Deep do--

-

No.

-

She can’t take her eyes off of him. 

It’s not-- 

But it is...

He’s looking back at her. 

Unfazed. 

He doesn’t remember her. 

He killed someone right in front of her. 

Just for the virtual hell of it. 

Just to show he could. 

Who is this man? 

She stares at him through a fog. 

Barely registering the bullets flying around. 

She’s yanked back by someone. 

It snaps her into reality a bit. 

She follows Coulson. 

He follows Aida. 

And then nothing.

-

She’s numb. 

_This isn’t real, Jemma._

-

“There was nothing else you could’ve done.” 

She feels a hand that covers hers. 

He may not fully remember her. 

But her connection with him is still as real as ever. 

“I’m sorry.” 

-

She ignores Ward’s pestering inquiries when they walk off the quinjet and back into the base. 

Ward could stand to have his questions go unanswered a bit longer.

After all, he did propel her and Fitz out of the sky. 

-

Coulson sits with her. 

She doesn’t ask him to. 

But he does all the same. 

They sit in silence. 

She knows he’s giving her space. 

Letting her process. 

There’s a part of her that can’t form any coherent thought or sound.

And there’s another part of her screaming screaming screaming 

##  **SCREAMING**

She wants to get out. 

She wants to wake up. 

She wants to get out and wake up from this nightmare. 

She wants to grab Fitz and run away. 

She wants to bleach out her brain and erase what she saw.

She wants.

She wants.

She wants.

But she can’t. 

And she won’t. 

-

“And that you’re in love with that psychopath!” 

Was it not just days ago that Fitz risked his life to help Director Mace battle Shockley? 

Mace was there.

Mace should know.

And now...

It was all for... 

None of them should be there. 

And Fitz -- the man she knows inside-and-out -- is not what they believe him to be.

He’s not.

And she would prove it.

-


End file.
